Lovelocked
by Sinceslicedbread
Summary: When Brendan Brady visited Dublin, sightseeing was not part of his plan.


He headed towards the walkway. The one that bowed itself over the water.

The wind whipped around him, biting at his exposed flesh.

Utter turmoil whirled around him also, biting at his resigned heart.

It was hopeless.

He had lost him.

Again.

The realisation hit him like a tombstone.

He was alone.

In days gone by, he had always viewed his love to be like a stick. He could throw it away, but his lover would always fetch it and bring it back to him.

Not now though.

Now, _he_ was no longer faithful.

To him.

_He_ had made his final choice.

A safe choice.

To be with another, in America.

To live.

On instinct Brendan turned his face to the West, following his own personal sunset.

Searching for warmth.

Solace.

Despite his best efforts, his chin dipped.

Water introduced itself to his eyes.

His shoulders shook and for a second Brendan allowed raw grief to rattle through his frame. He clutched at the railings to steady himself. His fingers bumped into something cold, hard, hopeful.

He raised his waterlogged eyes.

His heart twinged; for there in front of him was a permanent, romantic reminder, of another couple's faith in themselves.

A love lock.

A padlock attached to the bridge's balustrade, with the names of the lovers etched into the side. Legend has it, that the love would be everlasting if the key was dropped into the famous river below.

Brendan ran his thumb over the hastily scratched names of this lock.

_Ciaran and Shonagh._

He could see them now; young, besotted, in bloom, with their lives stretching out in front of them.

Together.

Brendan had always dismissed this particular piece of folklore as pathetic twaddle. Much like Valentine's it was designed to exclude the majority, to promote the joys of the rose-tinted minority.

However today Brendan was feeling uncharacteristically fragile.

He wanted to believe.

He needed to.

He had an urge to hand over the possible direction of his life to a higher force.

He was looking for a retraction.

A get-out clause.

He knew what would happen to a man who went back on his word to God. Who broke his promise;

but he was willing to risk it.

Doing a 180 (in every sense), Brendan fought against the blustering swirling wind. He made his way towards Sid's with a determined defiant glint in his eye.

-OOO-

Memory Lane proved easy to master. Despite not having set foot inside the emporium for many years, Brendan immediately felt at home in the hardware palace. Running errands for his dad and later for the men that ran things, had made him a bygone regular.

He felt sure his tab was still valid.

Only a thin layer of dust separated his last shopping trip from this.

_If it aint broke don't fix it _was Sid's overriding motto, so Brendan found the layout to be exactly the same.

He found what he wanted and also brought only one of what he needed (a single eye-brow was raised).

Leaving with his purchases, a soft greeting was given.

"Brendan."

"Sidney"

A Dublin child is never forgotten.

-OOO-

The journey back took longer. Snow now mixed with the snarling wind. Flakes settled on Brendan's lashes and melted directly into his eyes. He shook his head, he needed to see straight.

The Irishman picked up the pace. He was now running on ether, vapour, nonsensical hope, call it what you will.

Destination Ha'penny was reached.

Blinking furiously Brendan carved first his own and then his true love's name, into the brass background of the padlock, with the solitary nail that he had bought. He had to squint to admire his handiwork.

It was trickier than anticipated to cleave the lock to the railings. The blood was draining away from his fingertips, rushing back to comfort his cooling heart.

A piece of grit flew into Brendan's right eye, causing it to well up and obscure his vision. Tilting his head forwards he vaguely made out a shadow approaching him. Tackling near blindness, almost took second place to working out why the shadow with the dirty blond hair, had stopped before him.

His vision cleared.

His breath caught.

His heart leapt.

"Stephen."

Stephen's lips found their home. They transferred warmth and love to Brendan's own, chapped and neglected as they were.

_Brendan tasted his future._

The Irishman knew it would be prudent of him to pull away.

To push Stephen towards the West.

Towards safety.

So close were they, Stephen felt Brendan's final struggle too. He also felt him change his mind.

"Ya here - why?" Pulling back the home-grown boy hated to ask.

"I heard the Guinness was great." Stephen beamed, laughter and love filling his eyes.

Lifting his slender arms, Stephen placed them on Brendan's shoulders and brought the two of them even closer, dislodging what ever Brendan had been holding in his left hand. The padlock key slipped through his frozen fingers to the icy rapids below.

Only the fish heard it land.

-OOO-

**Comments are always appreciated**


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